BORDEN 2 (20 page)

I still don’t care, either. I’m your doll.
I’ll always be your doll.

Emma

Scratch.

Scratch, scratch.

My eyes whipped open to the sounds. It was coming from the coffin lid.
You’re hallucinating. You’ve probably had the last of the air. You’re starting to suffocate.
I shook my head trying to clear it. Was I really hallucinating? My heart sped up as the sounds continued.

“Help,” I weakly said, my voice drained of energy. “Please, help.”

My throat was raw and it hurt to talk. The pain in my back where my wrists were digging into had worsened to the point I couldn’t move without wincing in excruciating pain. I was half-convinced I was dreaming, that the noise of something dragging along the surface of the coffin was in my head. But it was too vivid. My hearing was all I currently had in the blackness, and it couldn’t be wrong.

“Please,” I begged, crying. “Please, help me.”

Crack!

Crack!

The box jerked and my heart spiked. It was the only part of my body that was still working strong. But the rest of me was a pile of limp bone and flesh. I continued to stare at the blackness, blinking away the dizziness in my head. I felt so tired. So goddamn tired.

You’re suffocating slowly.

Suddenly I heard a loud grunt followed by a deep angry growl. The sound was absolutely monstrous.

Crack!
CRACK!

The wood stressed above me, and then it broke through violently. Fresh air and grains of soil fell against my face as the lid forcefully opened. The darkness broke and the first thing I saw was a large hand pulling at the remainder of the broken lid. A huge figure loomed over me. I could see the long hair blowing in the harsh wind and as the figure leaned further down to me, I caught the thick beard and dark eyes. The familiar face frightened me more than it relieved me. I choked on a sob and cried out. “Hawke?”

“I got you,” Hawke said, his arms wrapping around me. “I got you.”

He pulled my limp body out and carried me out of the hole. I could hardly feel his touch as he set me gingerly on the ground, rolled me to my side and quickly tore away at the rope around my arms and legs with a large blade in his grip. Mentally, I was gone. This wasn’t real. I was probably dying and it was a mean hallucination right before the end. But then he rolled me on my back and I felt the sudden jarring pain in my shoulders as he brought my arms over my front.

“You’re okay,” he told me, his voice soft. “You’re okay now. I got you.”

It was too much. It was
too real
. I broke down, crying uncontrollably at the horror he’d just saved me from. His woodsy scent hit me. His touch broke through my numb flesh. He remarked that I was freezing and then he tore off his leather jacket and slipped it around me. The sudden warmth gave me pins and needles everywhere.

“Don’t leave me,” I choked out, my mind playing catch up. I was so traumatized, I still couldn’t move. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me.” I repeated this like a madman, and he picked me up swiftly, tucking me against his chest and responded with, “I won’t” every single time.

I was in a daze. There was no proper word to describe my mental state. Shut down? Broken? I felt like my soul had been ripped from my body and I was just lingering above, watching the scene unfold powerlessly. I was saved. I wasn’t dead. I wasn’t stuck in a hole. Yet my body reacted like I still was.

Hawke grunted and pushed through the bush, seemingly going in a particular direction. It felt like he walked forever with no end in sight. By the time the forest met the road, I was in a bubble of warmth and weak beyond words.

“We’re here,” he told me, his voice still gentle in an unfamiliar way. “You’re safe.”

He let go of me with one hand, and the slight imbalance caused me to fist his shirt, shaking my head as the fear of being let go shot through me. I didn’t realize I’d been repeating the “don’t let go” line again until he said, “Emma, I won’t drop you. Don’t worry.”

He dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a key. I turned my head and saw a black SUV parked on the side of the road. He went to it and unlocked the passenger side. He opened it and delicately placed me inside against the black leather seat. When he closed the door, he hurried to the other side and slipped in. Turning on the car, he blasted the heaters. He had a deep look of concentration on his face – a face that was coloured with dirt. I looked at him like he was some ethereal god sprung out of nowhere to rescue me. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I couldn’t move forward. I was in too much shock.

“H-how did you find me?” My voice was small and scratchy.

“I followed you,” he replied, turning his large body to me. “Graeme messaged me after you left and gave me the address of the bar. I came across the cars, the men, and…Graeme.” He swallowed thickly. “How are you feeling? I couldn’t get to you sooner. I had those fucks to take care of. I’m sorry.”

I blinked at him. Was he seriously apologizing? “You saved me, Hawke.”

“I would have liked to have done it sooner. The big guy was harder to take down.”

I looked him over. “You…you killed them?”

His eyes narrowed. “Of course I killed them. I plucked them off one by one.”

“All five?”

He nodded solemnly. “If I wasn’t so pressed with time, I’d have done a little more to those fucks.” His gaze dropped to my shaking hands and he frowned. “Now answer me. Are you alright?”

Tears fell as I looked away from him. “Graeme is dead.” Saying that out loud gutted me. The ache was so fresh. I covered my hand over my face and sobbed.

“I know,” he replied shakily.

“They killed the others in minutes. I didn’t want to run away. I hid and watched them shoot him. He kept screaming for me to run…and I didn’t want to leave him, but I had no choice. If he’d just run off with me, if…if we’d done something else…It’s my fault. I never should have left –”

“Hey,” Hawke interrupted, moving closer to me. He didn’t touch me, but he leaned forward, until his face was close to mine. “None of this is your fault,” he whispered. “You understand?
None of it.
If it wasn’t today, it would have been some other day.”

“But Graeme…”

“Graeme knew the risks. Hell, we all know the risks.”

“He died for me, Hawke.” I looked at him between the strands of hair cloaking my broken face. “He’s dead.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. He didn’t need to. I saw the pain in him. He let out a slow breath before pulling away. “Yeah,” he finally muttered faintly. “He is, but you’re not, and I’ve got to take care of you.”

He took hold of the steering wheel and turned the car around. He booked it down the road, driving fast. There was a sudden distance between us, like minutes ago he hadn’t been cradling me to his chest tenderly and telling me I was alright. With my current feelings, I needed that closeness. No, I desperately needed Borden. I needed his arms instead. I needed his warmth, his words, his love.
He
was the one that needed to take care of me.

“Where are we going?” I asked Hawke, feeling every part of me go slack in the comfortable seat.

“To safety,” he answered.

“To Borden, you mean.”

For some reason, he didn’t respond to that.

With his jacket still wrapped around me, I had pressed my head against the window and somewhere along the way fallen asleep. With every bump we drove over, I’d awake, startled and afraid. “It’s alright, Emma,” Hawke would tell me, reaching his arm out in my direction but never touching me.

“Where are we going?” I asked him sleepily. None of the areas we were beginning to pass were familiar. I was so discombobulated, I hadn’t paid attention to the roads.

“Like I said, I’m taking you somewhere safe,” he told me.

“To Borden,” I whispered, already slipping back to the blackness.

“Rest, Emma. You need it.”

I didn’t argue. I couldn’t hold on to consciousness if I tried. All that screaming, all that horror, and all that raw pain had fatigued every inch of my body.

I was slightly relieved for the blackness.

Emma

The car door slamming shut jolted me awake. It was dark everywhere. I looked around and caught Hawke’s figure moving across a parking lot and to a large red brick shop with the name Warlords INK. A tattoo parlour.

Instantly feeling uneasy, I stared at our surroundings. It was completely desolate except for a line-up of three black motorcycles out front. What the hell was I doing here? How long had I been sleeping? I looked back at Hawke and watched him as he pounded on the black front door. The place looked eerily dark. The windows were blacked out and had bars over them. There wasn’t a sign of any life. He pounded on it again, harder this time, and the door suddenly opened. Two men in black appeared. I couldn’t hear their conversation, but I saw Hawke leaning forward, pointing a finger in their faces and then pointing over their heads at something, or someone. Immediately they nodded and left, leaving the door open. Hawke turned back and walked to the car, moving to my passenger door and opening it.

“Come on, little one,” he demanded. “Time to get out. We’ll put you in a bed in no time.”

I didn’t move. I gripped my belt tightly, staring uncertainly at him. “Where am I, Hawke?”

“You’re in Warlord territory.”

“Why?”

“Because you need to be looked after.”

Panic shot through me. I shook my head. “No, no, no, Hawke. I want to see Borden. I don’t want to go to the club –”

“I can’t take you to Borden, Emma.”

“Why the hell not?”

He tapped the roof of the car, looking away from me.

“Hawke,” I pressed, sitting up in my seat. I winced at the pounding in my head and placed a hand on it.

“Are you hurt?” he suddenly asked. “Did they do something to your head?”

I took a few breaths. “I got knocked around a bit.”

“What did they do?”

“Kicked me, beat me against a tree, that sort of thing.”

“That sort of thing,” he repeated, his nostrils flaring. His breathing changed as he studied me. “I didn’t fucking see that part.”

“It’s fine.”

“Like fuck it is.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter right now. Where is Borden?”

“I don’t know. He fucking disappeared. The last anyone’s seen him was at the port.”

“Where the hell could he disappear to?”

“If I knew, I’d take you to him, Emma. I’m in the dark too.”

Worry replaced my fear. “They got him, don’t they?”

He didn’t answer.

I sucked in a breath, but it felt like my lungs were compressed. “They got him.”

“We don’t know that.”

But I did know that. “The bald guy…” I breathed out unsteadily, “he said tonight everything was going down.”

“What did he mean?”

“It means they got him.”

He exhaled. “You need to quit thinking, Emma. Let us do that, alright? Get out of the car and come inside. You’re going to be looked after –”

“I don’t want to be looked after,” I interrupted on a shout. He blinked at me in surprise for my outburst, but I felt like I’d reached the end of my rope. “I’ve had the worst day of my life. I watched a man I care for get killed. Then I got buried alive. And now you’re telling me that Borden’s disappeared. The last thing I want to do is get dropped off in a biker den filled with fuck heads who don’t give a shit!”

“You’re talking like you have a fucking choice,” he replied calmly, his dark eyes burning into my own. “Unfortunately, darling, you’re shit out of luck. You’ve got no choice in the matter. You’re coming in, you’re getting a room, and that’s where you’ll be until Borden is located. Got it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Emma,” his voice came out as a warning.

I pushed at his hard chest, more tears falling. “Go away! Leave me here.”

“In a car, all alone, looking the way you do? You’re having a fucking meltdown.”

“I’d rather be on my own in this car than around a group of crazy, strange men.”

“You won’t. I’ll be there with you.”

I froze and my arms fell. “You don’t mean that,” I muttered sceptically.

“Of course I mean that. You think I’d just leave you around by yourself with these guys? Borden would have my head. I’m not going anywhere, alright? I promise.”

I deliberated for a few moments. He let me have my illusion of choice. Frankly, I knew I didn’t have one. I would have to go. I didn’t trust what was out there, and after tonight, I felt stripped of the strong girl I thought I was and reduced to a vulnerable, terrified mess. Borden had said before that there were people out there that wanted to hurt me just for being with him. I understood that, but tonight reality struck me numb with the experience. I never wanted to have a similar experience again.

“Come on,” Hawke whispered, a note of desperation in his voice. “Nothing will happen to you. I got you this far, didn’t I?”

I nodded dazedly. With trembling fingers I undid my seatbelt. He asked me if I needed help getting out of the car and I stubbornly shook my head. I didn’t think I would need any, but then my body swayed and my vision dizzied. I took a few breaths and caught the seat as I slid off of it. Hawke didn’t help me, but he remained close in case I fell. There was concern in him. I knew he wanted to carry me in, but I objected to his touch. I needed only one man’s hands on me, and it wasn’t Hawke’s.

We walked to the opened door of the large tattoo parlour. Cautious, I looked around, waiting for something bad to happen. Maybe a teensy part of me thought Hawke would turn on me, or something. It was bad to think that way because he saved me, but I didn’t trust the bikers and I didn’t have much faith in people.

If Borden trusts him, you must too.

He let me step in first, and I was immediately greeted with the sight of both the men that answered the door and Hector, who was leaning back against the reception desk at the front with his arms crossed. All three pair of eyes looked me over immediately. If they were dismayed by the filthy sight of me, they didn’t show it on their faces. Hawke followed after me and slammed the door shut, locking the deadbolt.

“What the fuck is going on?” Hector immediately asked.

“A deal is a deal,” Hawke replied coldly. “You gotta honour your deals, brother.”

Hector’s jaw ticked. “I gotta honour my deals? What deal are you referring to exactly? Because as far as I’m concerned, Borden was the one that left us high and fucking dry. I’m not taking that bitch in over whatever the fuck has happened on your end –”

“Borden’s disappeared, asshole,” Hawke cut in, stepping beside me. His body shook with unconcealed rage. “His girl got kidnapped, got beaten around, watched men get blown to smithereens, and then she was buried alive, and you’re going to fucking stand there and tell me you’re not gonna take her in?”

All three men looked back at me, their blank faces twisting into mortification. Silence followed, until Hawke nudged me and said, “Get in that chair, Emma.”

I sat down on a waiting chair against the wall beside the desk. All at once, my body gave out and I buried my face in my hands. It took a few deep breaths before I had the energy to even look up at them. They were still staring at me. Hector, in particular, couldn’t seem to look away, caught up in a wave of both indifference and curiosity.

One of the men sighed and finally broke the silence. “Borden said he was going to the customs office to get our shipment through. He said he had some pansy that he threw money under the table to get the shit in. He never showed back up. We waited five hours and turned back.” He shrugged, and I studied him for a quick moment. He was older, probably mid-sixties, spindly and tall, with a grey goatee and longish black/grey hair. He had one of those cuts on with the word “treasurer” on it. I didn’t know what it meant. I wasn’t up to date with criminal biker terminologies.

“I know,” Hawke replied. “His men had the same story. He’s disappeared, and we have to find him.”

“Mulligan’s probably got him,” Hector spoke, his eyes still on me. “That’s the only explanation. He wasn’t alone once, not until he ducked out to the office. We circled around that street a dozen times. His car wasn’t there. I thought maybe he just took off, or something happened to his bitch or something.”

His bitch.

“I have a name,” I gritted out. “It’s Emma. Not Bitch.”

Hector shrugged. “Same fucking difference, and you’re still not staying. The business transaction never happened. Now we’re fucked because we don’t have our fucking product to pass up to the Italian mob that’ll be hounding our asses in about five seconds. This is a serious fuck up.”

“Your shipment is here,” Hawke gruffly retorted. “It’s sitting at the fucking port, brother! Getting it out won’t be an issue.”

“We’re not taking her in until it’s out. This deal only works when it’s fifty-fifty.”

Hawke’s expression dropped. I felt a chill in the room radiating from him. He took a step closer, his huge body mirroring Hector’s, but he looked so much rougher, like he’d been around the block way more times than his younger brother. I believed it.

The other two men stepped away from him, deciding distance was better, and that was a wise decision. Hawke was as unpredictable as Borden, and that could be a good thing, or a very bad thing depending what side you were on.

“Fifty-fifty?” he repeated slowly. “Borden sold himself out for you dipshits. He barely takes a slice of the fucking pie. You’re getting a deal of the fucking century with that product, and you dare fucking talk about fifty-fifty? The deal was to make sure she” – he pointed at me with his damaged hand – “has a safe place to be when the time is right – and the time is fucking right.”

“I’m sorry, Hawke, but you don’t get to make that decision. Last I checked, I was the President of this club, and that bitch ain’t staying –”

PUNCH!

The strike was so abrupt, I hardly registered it happened. Hawke’s fist was coated in bright red blood, and Hector was on the ground, hand over his blood nose, wheezing through his nostrils. With ease, Hawke kneeled down to his level and said very slowly, “And last I checked, I’m the real fucking president of this club, and I get to override your substituting ass whenever I fucking well feel like it. She stays. And Hector,” he leaned in even closer, “she’s got a fucking name, and bitch ain’t one of them.”